


You've Got Quite A Bit of A Rind on You

by AlternativeBoyScout



Category: Hannibal (TV), West World HBO
Genre: Alternative Universe - West World, Blood Kink, Blood and Violence, Cannibalism, Country & Western, Cowboys & Cowgirls, Dark Will Graham, Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, Flashbacks, Hannibal - Freeform, Hannibal Lecter Loves Will Graham, Hannibal Lecter is a Cannibal, Hannigram - Freeform, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Past Violence, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Sex Work, Sexual Tension, Threats of Rape/Non-Con, West World, West World AU, Will Graham Needs a Hug, Will Graham is a Cannibal, Will Graham is a Mess, Will Graham is a prostitute, implied slavery, mentions of rape/non-con
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-07
Updated: 2020-10-09
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:47:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,799
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26881681
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlternativeBoyScout/pseuds/AlternativeBoyScout
Summary: A West World AU that follows the development, growth and sedimentation of Will and Hannibal's relationship as they murder and eat their way through West World. As well as exploring what we define as human, and what it means to have free will and be free.
Relationships: Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Comments: 3
Kudos: 14





	1. An Introduction of Sorts

West World Terminology and Summary  
Commonly Used Terminology that Originates from West World -> a Condensed List for the readers convenience and Brief introduction into the World were this AU is set. 

This AU is based off of the hit HBO show West World, which I feel explores similar themes as I feel that Hannibal does (such as what does it really mean to be human as well as the concept of inherent evil versus nurtured evil) and felt that the characters and general plot actions would marry together well, and as a result I have written this monstrosity. It follows similar plotlines to West World, more specifically the Madams journey, but with my own Hannibal related twist. My goal is to follow all three seasons of West World in general plot ideals. 

Without giving away too much information and spoiling the fic, I shall provide short summary of season one of West World for those who have not seen the show but are still interested in this fic. The story is set within a futuristic theme park in the future (how distant it is not really made clear so that bit is up to interpretation) that is modeled after the Westerns of old. The theme park is inhabited by hosts that guests can interact with and do virtually anything to (read rape, murder etc.) but the hosts cannot harm guests. The first season explores the true definition of what it means to be human, and how do we as people define sentient life as well as all the complicated implications of our definition of life. It is a really interesting watch with a great cast, it is pretty graphic but definitely worth a watch if you have not seen it. 

The Following is a list of commonly used terms originating from World which may be useful to consult if you have not seen West World, they’re not necessary to know at this point in the story but may prove to be useful to you at some point:  
o Host – the hosts are the synthetic humans that populate West World, operate on predetermined loops with pre-determined story lines as decided by the Narrative directors of West World. It is important to note that the people who own and run West World consider these beings to be simply objects or merchandise that they can manipulate.  
o Guests/Newcomers – Guests of the park, can do whatever they want to the hosts, however they cannot kill each other (supposedly this really isn’t explored within the lore of the show as far as I am aware) and they cannot be harmed by the hosts (as quoted by Stubbs only a singular line of code prevents them from being able to hurt guests.)  
o The Messa – the point within the park were the people who run the park, observe, and run the park from afar. They can control the things are able to do within the park as the environment is artificially controlled, down to the animals inside of the park.  
o Narrative – the group of people who over see the set storylines within the park, that guests can chose to follow. The further out into the park you get the less family friendly the narratives become, same is true of the host themselves.  
o Butchers – Slang term for the people who work in maintenance, and restore the hosts after they were killed, replacing missing limbs and repairing other damages.  
o Sweetwater – The town where all guests begin their journey into West World.  
o The Train – The train is how guests enter and exit West World (IT and the other departments have other access points to remove dead hosts and work on new areas and storylines)  
o Control Pads – tablets used to monitor the functionality of the hosts as well as alter aspects about them, including story elements, as well as adjusting personality and more. Can also turn hosts on and off. 

That is about all the information needed to understand a majority of the connection to West World, if I feel the need to explain something else I will include it in the chapter notes, or will respond to anyone who wants more information about this show. I have quite a bit of information about West World and would be happy to simply discuss it with ya’ll.  
I do hope you enjoy this fic as much as I have enjoyed writing it so far.  
With much love,  
Alternative Boy Scout aka Collin.


	2. Chapter One - Of Men and Machine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello all! Or should I say howdy? This chapter is an little lengthy please bare with me, I just felt like we needed a lot to establish the world that we're operating in here. I did my best to include as much detail as possible but I cut myself back a lot as I was already at about 12 pages. I do hope you enjoy!

The Mariposa was Will’s domain and he ruled it well, at least in his own opinion. It was early afternoon in Sweetwater the air sticky but not as unpleasant as it would be as the sun climbed higher into the sky. The lightly yellow tinted windows made the light look funnily dim, but Will preferred it, it gave the bar a sense of mysteriousness, which was always good at least in the terms of business. It made the men more likely to ignore the aggressive look in his eyes when it was dim, they could not see the contempt he held for most of them, but instead saw the well-muscled man with baby blues that were seductive in their own right. They saw the glorious curls of his dark brown hair, the curve of his jaw, the darkly attractive beard he always had. The women had always been a little more observant of his actual character, but they were so seldom his customers, he hardly bothered to cover his deeper nature. He always supposed that was the nature of being a Madam, always hiding a bit of you to better your business. He had no qualms manipulating who he could if it could get, he and his ladies a little bit further ahead in life. The sooner they made their debts back the sooner they would be to find a “respectable job” as the more fortunate may put it. He chuckled darkly to himself, freedom may eventually be an option for his girls, but never him. Never Will. Will would always be were he was at, at least until he was old and withered and could no longer entertain the masses, then the Mariposa would no longer be his domain he supposed, he’d end up on the street or dead. Dead was better he supposed, the towns people hardly tolerated the whore house as it was, a useless whore well… he could not imagine what would happen to him. The thought of it brought bile to his throat, which he quickly swallowed back down, a bitter pill of sorts. 

He rocked himself lightly try to eliminate as much of the darkness as he possibly could. He tugged his bow tie away from his throat slightly, letting the air cool himself slightly. The Mariposa required it’s workers to dress well, but personally he found the male dress to be constricting, a full suit implying a gentleman an image that was only ruined by the inclusion of overly bright colors and embroidery that implied less then gentlemanly intentions. His jacket had intricate patterns sewn onto it, his bow tie was a loud purple red that made Will cringe whenever he put it on. Of course, it very seldom stayed on for very long, as Will despite his hatred was quite good at his job. His dress shirt and pants was fitted to him like a second skin and left very little to the imagination ,much to Will’s chagrin, it was very hard to hide how one was feeling so to say when everyone could see just about every inch of his body. His boots were slightly faded and worn in from hours of pacing the rough hewn floor boards of the Mariposa, as battered as they were Will was loath to buy another pair, as breaking in new pair hurt more than the disdainful looks he got occasionally from some customers. 

He leaned against the rough wooden bar top sipping a small glass of whiskey, the ice in it clinking happily as the slight burn of whiskey coated his throat, just a bit of liquid courage to blur the edges of his dangerously beautiful domain. Will scanned the bar, eyes unreadable as he observed the afternoon crowd, his gaze occasionally catching on the faces of the men and women who sat in the bar, but never meeting the eyes of any of the patrons. The eyes said too much about a person, and Will would be hard pressed to find someone he trusted enough to look directly in the eyes, beyond of course his beloved Clementine. Clementine was a young woman from somewhere back east, she couldn’t be much older than nineteen and she looked it, from her intricately arranged brown curls, to her rosy cheeks that dimples graced when she smiled softly and soft blue eyes that conveyed innocent intentions (despite her line of work), down to her girlish blue dress that fit her, more loosely then Will’s outfit but only just. Of course, she made up for that with the lowcut front of her dress and the shortness of her skirts that only brushed the tops of her knees. Will had always adored the girl, feeling and celebrating her accomplishments with paternal pride, and supporting her when she failed when able. He could never fully protect the girl, not from work, and never from the nightmares that terrorized her sleep. She would never tell him what they were about, but Will could tell they scared her to the bone, and he felt that terror right along with her. 

Clementine walked down the spiral staircase rubbing at her eyes, she was running quite late this morning. She stifled a yawn as best she could as she approached were Will was leaning against the bar. Will smiled at her softly with hidden affection in his eyes. “Remember what I told you Clementine, only open your mouth that wide if someone pays you for it.” He chastised, but with little heat. Clementine blushed lightly at his words, and situated herself against the bar next to Will, her elbow on the bar top. She looked dead on her feet Will observed with mild concern. “Late night?” he asked her. She shook her head “Not in the way you’re thinking, I could hardly sleep,” she stifled another yawn “The nightmares have gotten bad again recently ”, she said her voice crackled lightly from misuse. Will could see the dark circles under her eyes and the light tear tracks in her makeup, he could very clearly tell this wasn’t a recent development if the redness of her eyes meant anything, he frowned and placed a stray curl behind her ear. “Darling, let me tell you a piece of advice. I have learned a lot in my time in my journey to the West. I have seen things far too terrible to know, men with axes, men with guns, people burning in their own wagons while they sleep. When I have nightmares, I tell myself this is not real and then,” He paused to take a sip of his drink, “I count to three and wake myself up, and boom like that the danger is gone.” He snapped his finger to emphasize his point. “Dreams are only that, dreams sweetest.” He finishes touching her cheek lightly. Clementine leaned into his touch slightly just to feel some support from her surrogate father “Thanks Will. I’ll have to try it.” She smiles softly before fighting back another yawn. Will turned slightly and indicated towards the bar tender, who looks at Will with lightly vailed distain. “A glass of sherry for Clem please”. The bar tender frowned at Will’s request, “I suppose you’re putting that on your tab?” he says with hatred obvious in his voice as he pours a glass of bottom shelf sherry into a slightly dusty glass. Will nods fully aware of the bar keeps intense dislike of him. One of the bar patrons laughed loudly and took a sip from her own drink. Will turned to see Beverly the town “hero” smiling good naturedly at him. “The day Will Graham pays off his tab is the day that this shit hole becomes a fine establishment.” She said with a shit eating grin upon her face. Will smiled despite himself and flicked her hat lightly. “Isn’t it a bit early to be in your cups already Beverly? “ he said with a hint of playfulness that bordered on genuine fondness. Beverly was good people, she paid for her drinks and seemed to care about Will and his girls’ wellbeing. She was always good for a good conversation as well which was a plus. She smiled slily at him, “Ah well I just got back into town, I just wanted to reacquaint myself with all you outstanding folks” Will huffed lightly showing a hint of amusement, his eyes twinkling with withheld laughter. “I had wondered where you had been, I almost missed you.” He replied a small smile gracing his lips. “Besides, you’re one to talk Will” she smirked at him. “Well you –“ he started but was quickly interrupted by a flurry of gunfire from outside. 

Beverly stood from her spot at the bar hand on her gun that was holstered at her hip. Clementine grabbed Will’s hand and squeezed, her dainty fingernails digging into his hand. Gun shots were a normal thing to here in Sweetwater, however such a large amount was not normal. Will swallowed nervously, squeezing Clem’s hand back trying to provide a sense of safety for her but failing to do so. He could feel his pulse quickening, his hear practically ramming against his chest, something, no someone was coming. A boot kicked the saloon style doors open, and in came a trio of rough looking man, the middle one, who was obviously the leader, was none other than the infamous Jack Crawford. He wore a wicked grin on his face, the dim light of the Mariposa highlighting the sinister look of the large scar upon his face. He cocks his revolver, the sound of it sending Will into cold sweats, and waves it around wildly. He pulls the trigger a few times felling a few patrons. His eyes dancing with excitement as he turns toward where Beverly and Will stood. Beverly drew her own pistol and cocked it in one swift motion as she swung the revolver in Crawford’s direction. Will could see her swallow nervously, before she opened her mouth “Hands up Crawford!” she demanded her jaw clenched in an effort to appear intimidating. Jack Crawford lowered his weapon with a breathy laugh bordering on the sound of slight insanity. Will felt his stomach swoop, bile rising in his throat, clutching onto poor Clementine for support and shoving her behind him. Crawford looked Beverly dead in the eyes a full toothed smile spread wide across his face, “Now Katz there is no reason to be so rash…” he said with dripping sarcasm. The sound of two gunshots ripped through Wills ears, echoing harshly off the walls of the saloon, and reverberating impossibly through his bones. Beverly hit the ground before Will could even grasp what had happened, the bullet from one of Crawford’s henchman striking her between the ribs the warm spray of red hitting him squarely across the face narrowly missing his eyes. 

The world stood still for a moment as if the universe paused for a moment to reflect, the ringing in Will’s ears was worse now, bordering on painful. He spit blood – Beverly’s – from his mouth and wiped at his face. Crawford was talking to him now, but he could not hear him. He was asking Will something, but he could not piece together what the accursed man wanted. He felt the blood slicked gloves of the man in front of him shaking his shoulders. Screaming, but muffled in Wills ears. He felt the clawing of fingernails on his hand, Clementine! He turned his head away from the man who roughly shook his body, he could feel his teeth clacking together violently, painfully. His darling Clementine tried to grip his hand, one of the men had grabbed her and was trying to tear her away. “NO!” he screamed; he wasn’t sure if anyone could hear him he could only feel the vibrations from his own scream. “No please! Please god no!” he reached for her all he could his fingers straining but was unable to make purchase on the girl’s hand as she was well and truly ripped away from Will leaving bloody scratches where her fingernails made contact with his hand. Pain exploded in his gut; Jack Crawford’s knee met his sternum roughly. Will doubled over the breath knocked from his lungs. Crawford hit him again and again blood welling from his nose and into his mouth, coating his tongue in coper. Will tried to get to Clementine, only to be pulled back by his captor, who then firmly planted a boot onto Will’s back, he felt his ribs groan at the pressure of Jack’s full weight on his body, he could barely breath, but he continued to struggle, the floor boards like sand paper against his cheeks and hands. Jack stomped hard onto Will’s back again with more force this time, and that was when Will heard the crack of breaking bone booming throughout his head. Pain rocked through his core; all his air stolen from him. He sobbed helplessly as tears stung at his eyes. Jack jerked Will’s head back, hands wrapping around his throat and squeezed with impossible strength, Will clawed at his hands desperately trying to free himself, but it was over, Will could do nothing more. All he could see was the struggling figure of his Clementine as she was hauled up the stairs, thrashing arms and legs could be seen over the bodies of the men who stole her. The edges of his vision began to grow dim, he could feel himself slipping out of consciousness, his little strength fading. The colors of the scene grew muddied and fuzzy, the last thing he could see was Clementine’s boot making contact with one of the bandit’s faces, he felt the vibration of a gun shot shake room slightly, and he saw and felt no more. 

***********  
The train was much too crowded for Hannibal’s taste. It was hard to tell the people from the hosts, even their SMELLS were similar to him, only slightly synthetic note could be picked up if one was close enough to a host to tough them. At that distance however, he supposes that a guest would simply ask you to get out of their face, where as a host most likely would not. Their behavior was similar enough, the same motivations and drive as your everyday man, just artificially made. It would be hard to determine man from machine from behavior alone, but that was the point of West World wasn’t it? To allow man to come to his full potential without the murder of actual innocent people, and without danger or consequences for the murderer. Oh but the danger is half the fun thought Hannibal. He shifted on his wooden seat, refocusing himself on the sketch book in his lap, pencil leaping across the paper as he sketched the interior of the train, which swayed softly and vibrated slightly as the wheels skipped along the tracks. The other guests sat around him and talked loudly of their potential adventures and pasts experiences; humans could always be counted on to make themselves look foolish Hannibal smirked. A couple sat behind him, a small child on the woman’s lap. She softly spoke in the little girl’s ear; Hannibal could not make out what she was saying but he could practically feel the affection rolling off of her. It unsettled his stomach a little, the thought of affection as well as he supposed the idea of a child in this theme park. The little girl bounced excitedly and talked back happily to her mother. 

Hannibal tore himself away from observing the family and allowed himself to wander the train with his eyes, which finally settled upon the woman who sat directly across from him. She was a small Asian woman with long black hair that was tucked under a brown wide brimmed cowboy hat. She was dressed in a sun faded button down shirt, her jeans, and brown leather boots reflected the same weather-beaten pattern. Next to her sat a well-used saddle bag, and finally on her hip was a deadly looking revolver with a well-worn handle, suggesting heavy use. She looked out the window with an intense look on her face as if she was thinking far too deep about something, or he supposed it could be someone. He thought for a moment about his next move before he simply decided to talk to the woman. He snapped the sketch book shut the sketch of the train was rough but finished to a degree, he could polish it up later, after all he did have a significant amount of time reserved to be in the park. He slid his sketch book and pencil into his bag and threw it closed. He stood slowly gripping on the seat to counteract the swaying of the train before slipping his bag over his shoulder. 

He approached the woman carefully, still having trouble determining if he was simply going to annoy another guest or if she would provide a rather intriguing conversation. Hannibal if he had read the information available to him he would know who the hosts were, but that defeated the fun for him, it eliminated any sense of thrill he would feel when interacting with the “people” around him. He stopped next to her seat but stayed far enough back to give him room to escape if needed. “Hello.” He greeted her softly, holding back the morbid curiosity that swirled in his head. She glanced up from the window, a small smile gracing her face, “Hello” she drawled before sticking her arm out offering her his hand. He took her hand and shook it firmly. “Names Beverly” she said. “Hannibal” he replied a smile creeping on his face, she was defiantly a host, no real person would have ever greeted him like that, that is innocent with no hint of suspicion of ulterior motives. The slightly sterile smell of lab clung to her clothes only further confirmed his theory. It felt as if he was interacting with a child, or a puppy, eager to please with no concept of the horribly destructive world around them. The real world would eat the poor host alive Hannibal mussed to himself, his stomach sank a bit at a thought.

“Well it is nice to meet you Hannibal. That is a strange name,” she quirked her eyebrow at him “You’re not from, here are you?” she said as she pulled her saddle bag over providing Hannibal with a space to sit. “No I am not,” he smiled in private amusement, he paused for a moment to consider his response as he was unsure of how in-depth the Narrative developed her concept of other countries “I’m from Maryland”. She looked at him intently as if she doubted that was the whole truth, but let it go. “What brings you to Sweetwater?” she scooted the bag over a little more”. 

“Oh just the opportunity for a grand adventure.”  
******

“Damn they sure did a number on him this time.”

“No shit man, I had to search for that arm for more than 20 minutes, and with all that carnage it was like looking for a needle in a haystack.” 

“Narrative needs to tune that maniac back, at this rate we’re going to be picking up bits next time.”

“I wish they’d just axe the whole storyline; I think it’s a little tired at this point.” 

“How would you know?! Even with the employee discount neither of us can even afford to experience a single minute in that hell hole.” 

The second voice snorted. 

“I personally have little stomach left for this place anyways.”

There was pain, excruciating pain in Will’s throat and chest. He wanted to scream but he could not make a sound, nor could he move. Will heard the rustling of fabric and felt the friction of his shirt being pulled off, the feeling was odd buried under all the other sensations his body was throwing at him. 

Someone gagged. 

“Jesus man! Aim for the trashcan if you’re gonna puke.”

There was a pause, the person gagged again but seemed to be done.

“I’m good... I’m fine now. Shit how could one host do all this?”

“I dunno man but it seems a little over kill for me, and a lot more work for us to clean up after.” The words dripped frustration. 

“I thought just breaking the ribs was rough, but did they HAVE to do that?”

“Adds a little bit of spice I suppose.” He snorted “You know how Narrative is always trying to make the storylines bigger, badder, and bloodier.” 

The other man didn’t respond.

“Don’t look at me like that Vin, there’s not much we can do.”

The men grew quiet only the sound of a strange wheezing met Will’s ears. A bell sound filled the room. 

“Ah lunch time! We can finish this up after word.”

“I gotta be honest Steve I dunno if I can eat after this.”

“Oh come on Vin, at least take a break! We’ve been cleaning up that maniacs mess for the past six hours, you need to at least get off your feet for a bit.”

The man – Vin – sighed.

“Ah fine.”

There was the creak of door opening which was followed by the soft schick of the door closing. Will sat in silence for a long time, still in pain, but the feeling of it was dulled slightly. He tried opening his eyes. Nothing. He tried a few more times, his eyes finally opening on the third attempt. 

His vision was blurry, the light above him was too bright. His vision began to clear, he blinked quickly the room suddenly too white. It hurt his eyes to look at half of the room. He tired to sit up his body resisted but he managed to get in a sitting position. Pain ripped through him again. A scream bubbled up in his chest, but again there was no sound. 

Will looked at his hands, which were worse for wear, the skin shredded in various points, they sting intently just to remind Will of their attachment to his body. He surveyed the rest of his body, bruises covered all over his legs and thighs, the skin more black then flesh toned. He moved his legs gingerly, there was little response, but pain shot through his body. His arms where in a similar state so Will decided it was in his best interest to not move them so soon. He finally glanced down at his exposed chest, and to his horror he was met with the sparkling white of bone and the slick red of exposed muscles. 

His scream finally ripped through his throat.  
*****

Will shot awake in his bed. His throat burned both, and the skin around his neck stung angrily. The sound of the piano starting up downstairs met his ears. It was only a dream he assured himself, a stupidly realistic nightmare. He rolled out of bed wincing at the slight twinge of pain in his ribs, he probably just slept wrong he concluded. He pulled his boots on and made his way carefully down the stairs, his legs shaking slightly with left over nerves.  
He leaned against the bar top again and order his usual whiskey and sipped deeply. 

Clementine walked down the spiral staircase rubbing at her eyes, she was running quite late this morning. She stifled a yawn as best she could as she approached were Will was leaning against the bar. Will smiled at her softly with hidden affection in his eyes. “Remember what I told you Clementine, only open your mouth that wide if someone pays you for it.” He chastised, but with little heat. Clementine blushed lightly at his words, and situated herself against the bar next to Will, her elbow on the bar top. She looked dead on her feet Will observed with mild concern. “Late night?” he asked her. There was an unnerving feeling creeping down his back, a feeling he had seen this and said all this before. She shook her head “Not in the way you’re thinking, I could hardly sleep,” she stifled another yawn “The nightmares have gotten bad again recently ”, she said her voice crackled lightly from misuse. Will could see the dark circles under her eyes and the light tear tracks in her makeup, he could very clearly tell this wasn’t a recent development if the redness of her eyes meant anything, he frowned and placed a stray curl behind her ear. I swear Will thought to himself that something similar had occurred the day before, the feeling of Déjà vu continued to nag him. He felt himself say “Darling, let me tell you a piece of advice. I have learned a lot in my time in my journey to the West. I have seen things far too terrible to know, men with axes, men with guns, people burning in their own wagons while they sleep. When I have nightmares, I tell myself this is not real and then,” He paused to take a sip of his drink, which felt VERY forced to him, “I count to three and wake myself up, and boom like that the danger is gone.” He snapped his finger to emphasize his point another action he felt he had little control. “Dreams are only that, dreams sweetest.” He finishes touching her cheek lightly. He was beginning to become frightened. Clementine leaned into his touch slightly just to feel some support from her surrogate father unaware or unbothered by the look of terror in his eyes.  
It was impossible!

He shook his head trying to clear his thoughts. This Clementine noticed, “Will are you alright?” He swallowed down the rest of his glass, his tongue felt like sandpaper in his mouth. “I just need a moment Clem.” He could feel the panic rising in his chest, along with bile. He ran up the stairs barely making it to the lavatory before his stomach heaved. He wiped his mouth and tried to calm his heart, but to no avail, his stomach heaved again. 

He was sick until there was nothing left in his stomach and even then, he had to fight back the urge to puke again. He stood up shakily and washed off his face and rinsed out his mouth as best he could. He glanced in the mirror he looked terrible, his face was pale and the circles under his eyes were dark. He rubbed his cheeks softly trying to ground himself. The top floor of the saloon was oddly quiet, it was unnerving as hell to Will. That was when he heard the flurry of gunshots outside that Will recognized with horror. He flung open the door and practically launched himself down the step, he refused to let his dream be repeated. 

Clementine was still against the bar where he had left her a worried look rested upon her face, which grew into deep concern and then down right terror as Will flew down the stairs. Will never was able to see what caused her face to change so, the pain ripped through his chest. A bright bloom of red so dark it was almost black spread across his shirt. He grabbed at it desperate, he tried to take a breath once, twice and finally the world around him faded again, and he felt his face meet the ground, saw the dusty boots of Jack Crawford in front of his face. He heard the sound of a revolver being cocked, the click of the hammer as the trigger was pulled and then 

Nothing.  
*****  
Hannibal had found he was happy to be in Beverly’s company as they walked off of the train, his boots meeting with the dust for the first time. She smiled at him, not a single hint of anything other than a hint of budding friendship. “You want a tour of Sweetwater Hannibal?” she asked. He nodded, he had learned in the short hour they had talked that she was able to understand his meaning without having to be too expressive, she was observant for a host anyways. She hosted the saddle bag over her shoulder, unbothered by its awkward bulk as if she had done this a million times, which to be fair she probably had, such was the nature of the hosts. She told him about the shops in Sweetwater with much enthusiasm, it was obvious that the host loved her little town. If one did not know about the park, they may call the town cozy and sleepy, but Hannibal knew better. He could smell the tint of old gun powder that clung to every surface in town. 

The pair strolled slowly through the town, walking around gatherings of guests and hosts alike who were having rowdy conversations. They finally stopped at the entrance of a saloon called the Mariposa, Hannibal paused for a moment to study the rough and tumble exterior of the building. It was definitely a frontier town, the buildings all rough around the proverbial and literal edges, uneven and rusty nails peeked through the light paint that graced the Mariposa. Probably easier to clean up Hannibal thought. Beverly noticed his pause “It’s a little unsavory at times,” she said affection evident in her tone “But they’re good people.” Hannibal must have looked confused, “The bar staff and uh… the Madam and his girls”. She pushed open the doors with her shoulders, holding it open for the blonde. “We’ll grab a drink and then keep going.” Beverly said with a grin. It seemed like a good idea to him, he nodded in agreement “Sounds like a plan.” 

The two placed themselves at the bar. Hannibal waved for the barkeep and ordered a glass of wine. Beverly raised her eyebrow at his choice but didn’t say anything and ordered a glass of single malt whiskey. Hannibal carefully took a sip from his glass and was pleasantly surprised by the quality of the wine; it was of course no where near what he would drink at home but was suitable enough to drink he supposed. The two made small talk, Beverly going on about some farmer’s daughter named Alana, Hannibal was unsure if the girl was real or not but let her ramble as he observed her actions, reactions, and expression. She appeared so human sometimes it was unnerving and other times she came off as so artificial it was off-putting to him. He supposed no one was perfect, so he could not fault Ford and his team for occasional moments of breaks, he doubted most people noticed. He allowed himself to tune her out and let his eyes and ears wander. He heard the hum of other conversations around him, and the sounds of footsteps above him, and the creaking of bodies moving down the stairs. 

From the stairs emerged a man who stole the breath from Hannibal’s body. He has wildly curly black hair, wonderful baby blues that danced around the bar never settling on one face. He was dressed in bright colors, his jacket heavily embroidered, his dress shirt and pants tightly fitted to his body leaving little to Hannibal’s imagination, which left his brain buzzing loudly, filthy images racing around. He rubbed his hand across his eyes in attempt to steady his stream of thought. He turned his gaze to the girl trailing behind him and found himself much less interested in her than the man. She was attractive that was of no doubt, but she simply paled in comparison. He took a sip from his glass his mouth suddenly dry. 

The man leaned against the bar next to Hannibal and grabbed a glass of whiskey from the bar tender. The man smelled good, a mixture of cinnamon whiskey and aftershave, which covered the chemical smell of the lab he was sure would have been present on him. The man took a sip from his whiskey and turned to look at Hannibal. 

“You’re new.”

Will wondered how many times he would have to live this cursed day for, it was beginning to hurt at this point. He supposed this man was his answer, he was the one thing different from all the other times he had been brutally murdered. He clung to the idea of this man changing things. He was quite attractive, blonde hair, strong jaw, his eyes were bright and met his with burning intensity. He was shocked for a moment, but bit back his small noise of surprise. He was also well dressed; he wore a full riding set of a light brown color. His hat sat on the bar, but it was a darker brown and was lined with a black silk. The man smiled at him, he had been smiling at Beverly earlier, but that smile did not reach his eyes, this one however did. 

“Yes, I am new.” He responded. Will had to smile back at him. “Well I’m glad a man such as yourself decided to visit our humble establishment.” Will said playfully. The man snorted “I’d hardly call the Mariposa humble in any degree, but I am quite enchanted with her employees. Will felt a light flush reach his cheeks, unused to being the one who was being wooed. He usually played the role of the pursuer, and the newcomers usually let him play his games. This man clearly was not going to play as newcomers usually did. Will found it to be a refreshing change of pace. 

“Oh, I am sure you are enchanted,” Will laughed “We do try our best.”

The man snorted again, amusement evident on his face.

“What’s your name darlin’?” Will drawled.

“Hannibal Lector.” The man – Hannibal – responded. 

“Will Graham.” Will overed his hand to Hannibal who he assumed would simply shake it but was surprised to feel the press of soft lips to his hand as Hannibal kissed it. Will felt himself flushing again. He was quickly losing his control of the situation; he could not predict this man. He needed to regain some semblance of control, after all Hannibal was in his domain. Will swung his leg over Hannibal and promptly placing himself in the man’s lap, which admittedly was quite difficult to do on a bar stool, but he needed the element of surprise on his side. Will heard the man gasp quietly, and he smirked in victory. Hannibal wrapped his arms around the man’s waist to stabilize the position they were in. Beverly who still sat next to him let out a laugh, “I’ll take that as my que to find somewhere else to sit.” She teased before standing and grabbing the arm of Clementine, “Let’s dance Clem.” She smiled at the girl and motioned for the man at the piano to start playing. 

The sound of the piano’s rendition of some saloon tune filled the air. Hannibal shifted bellow him, obviously trying to get more comfortable, Will smirked again.  
“So Cowboy… do tell me what brings you to town.” Will said as he snaked his arms around Hannibal’s wide shoulders.  
Hannibal smiled good naturedly “I am in the search for a grand adventure.” He said softly touching the curls that touched Will’s ears. He shivered lightly when Hannibal’s fingers brushed his ears. 

He looked at Hannibal through his long eyelashes “How do I play into that?”, his plan working surprisingly well. If he could convince this man to take him and Clementine with him on his “grand adventure” as he called it. The man sat silently for a second as he was considering Will’s words, almost as if he was trying to find Will’s motives. 

“How do you want to play into it?” The man asked leaning in closer to Will’s face his nose brushing his. 

Now it was Will’s moment to think. How odd it was for someone to give him a choice in anything. He considered his response; he could ask this man to take them away and he probably would agree to take them, but then what would the man ask for in return? Will was having a hard time reading this man’s emotions. He had a feeling that he was only able to read off of this man what he LET him read. It was more then a little frustrating to him. He could feel the man’s breath ghosting against his skin, it smelled nice, like red wine and wintergreen candy, which was an odd combination, but Will found that he liked it. He opened his mouth to respond, when the all too familiar flurry of gun shots exploded outside. 

The sound sent fear right to his core. Hannibal pulled back and gripped Will’s thigh tightly, the fear much be all over his face. The sound of the doors being pushed open hit his ears. “Hannibal…please we need to … we need to leave.” He babbled, as he pulled on Hannibal’s collar in panic. Clear worry flashed across the man’s face, he pushed Will off his lap quickly and shoved him behind him. Hannibal was clearly aware of the danger that Jack, and his gang posed. His right hand grasped the pistol on his hip his left clung to Will’s arm. 

Will was confused by the man’s actions, but not ungrateful, he had obviously made some sort of impression on the man. Jack smiled that wicked grin that Will hated with all of his soul, he fired a few shots into the patrons who were quickly beginning to panic. The crowd screamed and overthrew tables in an attempt to escape. Hannibal pulled on Will’s arm drawing his pistol, “Come we need to leave.” He said smoothly but with authority. “We cannot leave without Clementine!” Will yelled panic creeping into his voice. He searched the crowd for Clementine and Beverly but he could not see them in the panic. Hannibal hooked an arm around Will’s and tugged him along this time. “We cannot wait for them; we need to go before the Sheriff charges into this place.” Hannibal said. 

It hit Will at once that this man has somehow known about this impending attack, or rather the possibility that it may happen. He looked Hannibal dead in the eyes, trying to communicate his feelings in the way his mouth could not. Hannibal looked at him back, his eyes softening slightly before he began to usher Will towards the exit, what else could Will do at this point. 

Jack and his crew began firing again, a bullet whizzed past Will’s head and buried itself deep in the bar keeps head, the spray hitting his back wetly. He heard Hannibal cock his revolver and fire off a few shots as he moved shoved, he and will through the mass of bodies. Will heard a couple of them make contact with bodies but he refused to look back. 

Hannibal grunted as he hit a man with the butt of his revolver, he needed to get Will out, He found the man far too intriguing, far too attractive to allow him to become fodder for the stupid Red Valley Raiders plot line. Sure, he would be put back whole if he was killed but it would not truly be the same Will as the one, he currently clung too. The thought of Will being replaced by a pseudo stranger unsettled Hannibal. He simply would not allow it. He fired his pistol again the bullet striking one of Jack’s lackey’s in the side, blood blooming from between his ribs. It was beautiful in a way Hannibal thought, but now was not the time to admire his own handywork. After what felt like forever the two finally broke through the saloon doors. People ran about the towns square, panicked screaming all around. Other members of Jack’s gang sat outside with shot guns and took down as many townsfolk as they could. 

It was worse than Hannibal thought. Bodies littered the ground, blood in puddles around them, Hannibal splashing through them as he pulled Will away from the bar. The other man let him pull him as he glanced back for a moment at home, or rather former home. He turned away quickly from it tears shining in his eyes but began to move with purpose. Hannibal spotted a horse that was relatively unharmed tied on the corner of the Dry Goods Store and the Mariposa, only a few feet in front of them. Jack’s men’s attention was not on them for a moment and he needed it to stay that way. “Quickly Will,” he hissed “To the horse” Will looked at him and nodded. 

The pair made a rush for the horse, which was a large stallion that could easily hold them both, Hannibal’s hands grabbed onto the reigns attempting to settle the obviously spooked horse. Will look at the horse with a small look of uncertainty but pulled himself onto the horses back. Hannibal dropped the reigns and swung onto the horse behind Will. He reached over Will again grabbing the reigns. “Hold on!’ he shouted and flicked the reigns. The horse starting out slowly but quickly gaining speed as they rushed through town. Will held on to the saddle for dear life, feelingly as though he was on the edge of falling off. Hannibal wrapped and arm around his waist settling him. Hannibal was warm against him; out of the corner of his eye he could see the smile that sat on his lips and the pure joy that danced in his eyes. 

They reached the edge of town quickly and without any incident. The darkness of the prairie before them seemed to draw Will in. They let the horse gallop for another ten minutes or so before slowing him to a slower but still efficient trot. He felt Hannibal relax a bit against him, considering that they were far enough out of the danger zone. Will suddenly became aware of how close Hannibal was to him, his cheek felt warm. Hannibal sighed letting some of the built-up tension out. Hannibal leaned forward and place a soft kiss against the junction of Will’s neck and shoulders. Will shivered a little at the small sign of affection. Hannibal put his mouth near Will’s ear and whispered to him,

“We’re on our way darlin’.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Howdy again all! I hope you enjoyed this chapter! I tried the my best to keep characters within character but it's kinda hard for me to separate the couple I see in my head from how they would actually behave. The next chapter should be up in a couple of days or so it depends on how much homework I need to get done this weekend. It takes about two days of writing to get as much written as I have so please be patient with me! Feel free to leave comments bellow or message me directly with any comments, questions, and concerns you may have. 
> 
> See you soon!  
> xoxo  
> Collin


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